The Glass House
by Fanfic Addict2
Summary: The Captain is stranded on a colonised world. Injured, he witnesses what, at first glance, seems like a crimeless society. Rated for future violence and language.
1. Chapter 1

**The Glass House…**

I do not own Captain Harlock. Captain Harlock is the property of Leiji Matsumoto and Toei Animation.

This is my first try at a full fiction of Captain Harlock. It should be only a few chapters long. I cannot promise it will be updated regularly, as my inspiration for our dear Space Pirate seems to come and go.

… Feedback might stimulate my creativity, though. Enjoy!

* * *

_Beware__ well wishers and their intentions…_

* * *

As the atmosphere was filled with plasmatic explosions, red flames contrasted with the pale blue skies of daytime.

Nonetheless, the small two-place space-fighter managed to dodge every shot of the automated defense artillery. This was no small feat, and only an exceptionally talented pilot could have slipped between the webs of lasers unscathed.

Finally out of range from the ground defenses, the freighter accelerated. Behind it, a small flotilla of robotic planes made an attempt to catch it. The red fighter distanced them easily. The ever-grinning Jolly Roger painted on each side appeared to mock the poor excuse for a defense system before leaving the atmosphere and slowly disappearing from sight.

On ground-level, a vast plain reached all the way to the horizon. There were miles and miles of farmland, all in perfect rectangular shapes of different colors. Though battle had just raged above their heads, the workers and droids kept working seemingly without a care in the world.

Slightly above the plain, where a small hill covered with grass marked the frontier of a small forest, dozens of skeletal battle-droids lay broken and smoking on the ground, at the booted feet of a single man. His face hidden in the shadow of the single oak tree that stood on the hill, the man watched the space-fighter make its daring escape. A subtle, but determined smiled graced the man's lips.

A horde of metallic troopers quickly made its way up the hill. Quickly and efficiently, they surrounded the stranger, blasters in hand. Among them was a short and fat man, dressed in a brown suit:

- Y…you there! In the name of the Space-Federation, you are under arrest!

Bolstered by the stranger's lack of reaction, the greasy-haired midget continued:

- Surrender your weapon and you will not be harmed!

The hill went silent. The stranger seemed unaffected by the presence of the fat midget and his robotic guards. His eyes stayed still where, a moment earlier, the small space-fighter had disappeared from view. A gust of wind caressed the grass and the oak's leaves, the stranger's cape floated for a moment, its fabric flapped quietly in the air, like the defiant sound of a lonely flag.

The man in the suit was at a lost, the stranger was completely ignoring them! Like a fish, his mouth opened and closed a few times. The other man showed no sign of doing anything, as if he was lost in his own thoughts, despite the dozen riffles pointed directly at his head…

The small man froze a moment, his brain trying to process what to do next. Part of him, his instinct, whispered that the stranger was too calm, stood too straight and that he should beware. A single drop of sweat ran down the man's temple, betraying his inner-conflict. But the whisper was blatantly ignored, as the midget grew bold once more:

- Very well… You two, secure him!

Two droids broke the ranks and walked, blasters ready, to the stranger who had his back turned on them.

_Schwing! Slash!_

The two droids crumpled on the ground, broken and smoking.

The fat midget took two steps back, mouth gaping in shock. In a flash, the stranger had turned around and sliced the droids in half. His face, now in full view, showed a prominent scar under the left eye. The right eye, partially hidden by a mass of dark copper hair, seemed covered by something black, a patch perhaps. The stranger half-smiled; half-snorted in disdain at the man and his droids.

Yet, the man in the brown suit seemed to notice for the first time that the stranger's left arm hung uselessly at his side. The strange saber was also held slightly lower then it should have been. Was the stranger… injured? Oh, yes!

The fat man had no time to savor his discovery; the stranger had read his face like a book. A glint in his eye showed his anger at the midget for scrutinizing him like a vulture would its next meal.

The fat man managed to squeal "Seize him!" before one of the droids jumped in front of him and avoiding the midget to be transpierced by the saber. The other guards moved on the stranger, but the later had apparently no strength left. He dropped one knee on the ground. The cross of a blaster connected with his neck, and the stranger fell into darkness…

-TBC-


	2. Chapter 2

The stranger laid still on the simple bunk of a white room. It smelled of antiseptics. The room was completely silent, asides from the slow beeping of a machine in the corner of the room, indicating that the stranger was asleep.

His wounds had been mended and wrapped carefully in white linen… quite strange, now that the man had been identified.

Nonetheless, exhaustion and sedatives insured that he slept peacefully.

* * *

Faint noises echoed down the corridor. As one stepped closer to the origin, the noises turned into voices, then into shouts and protests. An intense discussion took place behind a door guarded by a droid and marked: "Council in session. Do not disturb". 

- Councilman, this is madness! We should warn the military! Send a courier to Earth!

So spoke a heavily decorated man with gray hair. He was quickly backed by other members:

- Yes! Yes! The Headcouncil is right! We should call the Prime Minister himself!

- This is a matter for the army!

- The man is a PIRATE!

- … And an assassin!

- Don't you watch the news, Goodman?!?!

But, the fat councilman Goodman only grinned wider. He raised his voice to cover the protests of his colleagues:

- PLEASE, PLEASE! Gentlemen. Actually, I find this to be a UNIQUE opportunity that presents itself to us…

- You're mad, Goodman!

- Hardly, councilman Creed. Before this noble assembly cedes to panic, I'd like to expose my point of view…

- But…

- …uninterrupted if possible?

Reluctantly, the other councilmen went quiet, while Goodman, in his eternal brown suit, stood from his chair. Grabbing the collar of his vest at chest-level, raising his nose a bit higher in the air and clearing his voice, he spoke with a presidential voice:

- We, the people of Colony X-7-3, have, up until now, lived rather marginally within the Space-Federation. Through this, we avoided number of troubles: the Great Famine, the Pirate Uprising and the sadly famous War against the Machines. Thus, we have created our own way of thinking, our own culture and our own inventions. Unlike the rest of humanity, we do not struggle for food, have a near-zero crime rate and our machines could not be more obedient. But, the time for isolation nears its end. We are ready to show the universe the greatness of our Civilization. We are ready to export our beliefs to the now needy, hungry and desperate remnants of humanity. But, for the Federation to adopt our superior way of life, we must first bring tangible proof of this superiority. Studies, reports and statistics would do little to impress the Earth Congress. We need to show, in the flesh, our accomplishments.

Goodman paused to put emphasis on his following argument.

- And so, the opportunity I spoke of earlier has been brought to us. We, of X-7-3, through our great scientific minds, have concluded long ago that there is no such thing as Evil. That logic, medical and psychological analysis can reveal the real roots of the so-called "criminal mind". That is why we have relinquished the use of primitive "prisons" and "jails" to the better adapted and more humane psychiatric wards. The belief of "evil" brings fear, and fear brings illogical reactions. But WE have the better way. I propose to this honorable assembly that we attend the stranger… however terrifying his reputation, which, I do not doubt, is born of ignorance and primitive thinking… We should put him through the **P.R.O.G.R.A.M**. so he may be remade into a productive, collaborating, obeying and happy member of society. His fame and miraculous recovery will gain us enough political weight to ensure us a position of strength within the Space-Federation. Position we could then use to spread Our Way throughout the universe.

The councilmen weighted the fat midget's words, until the Headcouncil spoke:

- You have an interesting position, Councilman Goodman. Earth and the other colonies could use our peaceful way of life, but there is too much at risk. The pirate is famous for his ability for grand-scale destruction. Such a dangerous man would be better left at the hands of higher authorities. Not to mention that we are, by Earth-decree, bound to transfer high-ranking criminals to the nearest military installment as soon as possible.

Goodman bowed to the elder.

- Spoken wisely as always, Headcouncil. But, with all due respect, I insist. If we acknowledge the danger, we also acknowledge the primitive thinking behind it. I am somewhat shocked by the lack of faith shown in our precious institutions…

The Headcouncil and Councilman Creed gawked at the barely-hidden provocation.

- … But I am convinced the rest of the assembly will see the greater-reasoning behind my humble project. Truly, I am so confident in our ability to reform the stranger, that I have ordered for him to be transferred at the establishment under my authority. Establishment, which you are all aware of, happens to also be the permanent residence of my beloved daughter. Now, if there was any danger, do you believe I would put my own child's well-being at risk?

A whisper of approval traveled amongst the assembly. But Councilman Creed rose from his chair in protest:

- No risk, you say? What if His crew comes looking for him? What then? And what was he doing here, on this remote world to begin with? Shouldn't we be concentrating on that first?

- Pirates are notoriously disloyal. He has been abandoned, while injured, by his companions. Then my personal guards, through delicate negotiations, peacefully secured him and brought him in for healing. I doubt any other pirate will bother with a rescue. Once he has been put through the P.R.O.G.R.A.M., all danger will be gone. If need be, He will tell us himself why he came here.

Once again, the councilmen nodded in approval. Councilman Creed was baffled by such an apathetic attitude over such an important issue.

- You can't go against interstellar agreement, Goodman! You have to turn him in!

- Now, now, _Councilman_ Creed. Temper. There are no military ships within 100 000 light-years of this colony. Besides, the decree does speak of _criminals_. We can hardly be expected to follow "to the letter" a decree that asks us to turn in something that _does not exist_…

The rest of the assembly laughed while councilman Creed and the Headcouncil sunk in their chairs.

- … and, if I may add, if we turn in this poor soul to the military and their barbaric methods, you can be certain he will be executed on the spot! Can we, in all honesty, allow such a practice to take place? To allow a troubled an ill man to be executed and be denied proper help? And, most important, to leave the rest of mankind in their primitive and barbaric way of life? Surely, my esteemed colleagues, you see how important this moment is? It is time for Colony X-7-3 to leave the shadows of its secluded existence and rise amongst the greatest of worlds. We, the people of X-7-3 must rise above the crowd and guide humanity back into the light! We shall impose our way, the better way, to the rest mankind and will shall do so, starting with a single soul: that of CAPTAIN HARLOCK!

The assembly exploded in cheers of approval.

-TBC-

* * *

That's all for now. 

Action will start in next chapter, which is currently in writing, but I'm not certain I'll be able to post it tonight.

Until then, feedback will be appreciated…


	3. Chapter 3

_Hi again! I'm commenting at the beginning of this chapter because I want to apologize in advance for incorrect references to some characters__ I am likely to make in the future._

_I wanted to write a story where Tochiro was still alive, but my memory is a bit foggy. So, my "continuity" of the series is, shall I say, rather screwed up. So, I apologize if anyone is offended by my inability to tell who was alive when and who was on the Arcadia and who never stepped in it._

_...as usual, feedback is greatly appreciated... _

_Now, on with the show!_

* * *

Harlock sat on the hospital bunk. His breath was slightly ragged due to his injury. He ran his right hand over the white linen to feel the extent of the damage under it.

Blaster wound. Direct it. Short range. Had gone through the protection of his armor-jacket, pierced the flesh and, apparently, went out the back.

He remembered the fight. How he had been unable to make his way to the hangar and how, equally, his best friend Tochiro had been unable to pick him up. The warrior-droids had been a real joke to fight with. They were logical, pre-programmed and unoriginal; nothing like the chaos and unforeseeable choreography that battles with humans were. But number made a difference and it was only a matter of time before one of the droids had a "lucky shot". Harlock had remained standing, despite the pain, and had fought off the first and second wave of machines. His raging hearth kept pumping his blood, while the precious liquid was expulsed outside his body through the gaping hole in his shoulder.

The lightness in his head showed him just how much blood he had lost. He noticed the IV in his arm, injecting fluids. He pulled the needle out. They had injected him with painkillers, tranquilizers, anti-bacterials, antibiotics, muscular relaxants, coagulants and anti-coagulents, sleep drugs and who knows what else… He dejectedly tossed the IV tube aside. Harlock allowed very few people to tend to him when he required it. He could count them on the fingers of his hand, and only one person would have normally been allowed that extend of "care" on his person: the Arcadia's medical officer, doctor Ban.

Harlock put his elbows on his knees and rested his chin on top of his closed fists. His personal effects had been seized, he had no information as to where he was, he did not know his captors' intentions and he was still too weak to escape at the moment. Therefore, he would wait.

* * *

A quiet humming echoed in the corridors of the resting house. The delicate noise was quite contradictory with the brutal clanking that surrounded it.

The group reached the sealed door marked "HARLOCK". The being creating the humming sound put its metallic hand on a scanning panel. The door slid aside and two of the four guard-droids rushed in side, weapons ready. Calmly, the humming robot went in and the other guards closed the march.

Inside, the "patient" had not moved from his spot on the bunk, eyes hidden in the shadow of his own hair.

The humming droid observed him a moment, analysing the reaction, or lack thereof. This droid was in the form of a woman. It looked very much like a pretty doll in a long blue dress and a white apron with a red cross on it. Its ginger fake-hair was shaped like it was tucked back and a metal nurse cap was on top of it. It had beautiful blue eyes. Still, there was no mistaking; the nurse was as much a droid as the guards.

The droid started its pre-programmed greeting:

- Hello. I-am-Nurse-431. I-have-been-assigned-to-your-care.

Nurse431 awaited one of the standard human replies, but none came. It analysed the possible causes and went on:

- You-need-not-fear-me. I-have-been-programmed-to-help-you. I-will-do-everything-to-the-limits-of-my-programming-to-ensure-your-well-being. I-will-care-for-you-and-tend-to-you-and-make-you-well.

Still no reply. The nurse-droid continued:

- Please-excuse-the-presence-of-the-security-droids. We-do-not-usually-allow-weapons-within-the-premises. Yet, you-have-been-classified-level-42-risk-factor-and-a-request-of-increased-security-has-been-filled-by-the-Colonial-Council.

Given the lack of reply, the nurse-droid decided to skip this step and move to the next order:

- You-have-been-dimmed-fit-enough-for-preliminary-examination. Please-come-with-me. Should-you-experience-discomfort-or-exhaustion-during-travel, please-mention-it, so-I-may-tend-to-it.

The side of her "dress" opened and a metallic contraption came out. Nurse431 manipulated it like a 3D puzzle and the contraption turned into a wheelchair. The patient tensed, but the guards forced him to sit down on it. Getting back in formation, the cortege reformed and droids and patient left the room.

Had the nurse-droid been able to read minds, the only thing she would have heard from Harlock was one word being spitted out:

"_Debilitating!"_

* * *

Harlock was dragged along endless white corridors in his wheelchair. The only thing worth watching was the glass dome above their heads which had replaced the ceiling. It seemed almost 500 feet high and showed the sky in all its glory.

Harlock finally saw where he was: inside a giant glass dome.

Buildings connected to one another through those white corridors in an enclosed environment, the air sterilized and the temperature controlled. The walls of the corridor lowered and revealed an interior garden. But he didn't have to look very long to notice it was all fake, all plastic, glue and fibreglass. It was probably a pre-recorded audio-track that gave the illusion of wind, branches and birds.

Nurse431 dragged him to the central structure, a white marble building, also a dome. Like ants, he could see people rushing in and rushing out. The cortege fell in line with the rest and they entered the edifice.

If, on the outside, the dome was shapeless and even to a fault and the people looked like ants; the inside was a structural semi-chaos and the people went around like bees. There were stairways at the strangest places, corridors and walkways that snaked around, the rest of the structure was all machines: a seemingly disorganised factory with bubbly protuberances, pipes of all shapes and sizes, the lights were multicolored and cast strange shadows on the walls and floor.

The group did not stop, not even when the brown-suit midget, that Harlock recognised, appeared from the crowd and started tagging along behind, followed by other suit-wearing men.

"Gentlemen, this is truly a great day." Said the fat man. "Today is the first step to this man's recovery. It is also the first ray of light towards a bright future"

Recovery? Future?

The man's groupies cheered him on: "God bless you, Goodman!", "We are lucky to have you, councilman", "I'm so glad I voted for you!", "You're a great man, mister Goodman!"

Goodman? Harlock would remember that name.

"Thank you! Thank you all! But I'm afraid we are entering a restricted area. So I will see you all a little later…"

The fat midget had spoken the truth. They had arrived in front of two massive solid-metal wall, a small dark corridor went through them. Harlock almost missed the two robot guards on each side, two metal giants that blended in with the décor. The six of them went into darkness, following the light at the end of the tunnel.

* * *

The room they arrived to glowed with gold colors. It had a few touches of pink, purple and white, but gold was omnipresent. Though there was much machinery here, the background noise was a light rumble, almost a purr, soft whispers and tinkering bells.

There was one last structure within a structure, it seemed. A golden pyramid, shaped like a beehive, stood almost 30 feet high in the center of the room.

A twin pyramid descended from the ceiling, there was just enough space between them for someone to stand there. Actually, there was a seat on top of the golden pyramid, almost like a throne, and somebody sat there.

It was a woman. Her skin was as pale as alabaster, her long golden blond hair cascaded from the top of her head and spread down to her feet. Her limbs were elongated and gracious, while her body was a wonder of curves. She opened her eyes, emerald green eyes, and looked down upon them with a look seemingly filled with love and care. Her pale lips showed traces of a smile.

While her stare was directed at Harlock, Goodman tippi-toed to the front row and cleared his throat. For some reason, he avoided staring directly at the pirate.

- Captain Harlock, let me introduce you to our greatest asset here at the clinic: Matron-One. Matron, may I present the illustrious pirate and your newest patient: Captain Harlock. I hope to…

Ignoring the councilman, Matron-One spoke. Her voice was like honey on vanilla cream. So sweet and soft, that Harlock rose his eyes to meet her stare:

- Captain, it is such a pleasure to meet you. I am sorry our care seems to upset you so…

Harlock remained silent. Nurse 431 looked down on him a moment, then gave her medical opinion:

- I-apologise, Matron-One. The-patient-seems-unable-to-speak. Perhaps-it-is-due-to-some-after-shock-of-his-injury-or-a-form-of-psychological-trauma…

- Or perhaps he does not desire to speak…

The Matron's voice was full of understanding and compassion. She rose from her seat. Perhaps it was a play of the light, but it seemed like she had been glowing until she left the top of the pyramid. She slowly stepped down the stairs in front of her, keeping her gentle eyes on the captain's blank, cold stare. Still, she smiled and continued.

- There are many reasons I can think of as to why you avoid speaking, but it does not matter at this point. Still, I also guess that you have many questions. I will try to answer some of them.

She ran a delicate hand in her hair, clearing her eyes.

- You will not be harmed. It would be against the ways of our people. It has also been decided that you would not be handed over to the Earth's authorities, as that would also cause you harm. Instead, you have been entrusted to my care and that of this establishment. You are within the Healing Complex. Some refer to it as the Glass House, as you have undoubtedly noticed the transparent dome above the complex. We do not believe in crime any more then we believe in punishment or evil. The information we have received about you suggests that you are possibly afflicted by an unknown trauma and that this trauma eventually led you to piracy. That is why we consider it our duty for you to undergo P.R.O.G.R.A.M. Once you are healed, you will be free to leave.

She crossed her hands in front of her.

- Those are the questions I can think you would ask. Is there anything else you would like to know?

To Goodman's surprise, Harlock's voice was heard:

- What is P.R.O.G.R.A.M.?

- P.R.O.G.R.A.M. has been designed to heal the minds of the troubled and pain souls. P.R.O.G.R.A.M. is good. It will make you feel better and allow you to become a better person.

- Brainwashing?

- No... P.R.O.G.R.A.M. does not imply to deprive you of your will. It is both a mirror that will make you see yourself as you are, and strength to allow you to change that image.

- Yet, it will change me…

- If the image does not hold any faults, then P.R.O.G.R.A.M. will not affect you.

With Harlock silent again, Matron-One nodded in understanding.

- We shoud begin.

She turned around and waved her hand. The bottom of the pyramid opened and white light burst from it, revealing a room at the center of the golden hive. Then she turned to Goodman.

- Thank you councilman, but I'm afraid you must leave. Any further would violate patient confidentiality, I'm certain you understand.

The fat midget blushed and smiled stupidly before giving Matron a quick bow and leaving.

The woman started to walk towards the hive. Harlock moved his chair, but was stopped by the droids. Matron-One stopped again.

- Nurse431, let the captain stand. He wishes to use his own strength to support himself.

Tensed, but slightly wavering, Harlock followed the blond woman inside the pyramid, which closed behind them.

* * *

The inside of the pyramid was a strange place. It was a void room with two comfortable chairs. The lighting was pure white, but not aggressive. Harlock thought his eye was playing him tricks, as everything felt distant, foggy and wavy, like he was sleepwalking.

The woman sat in one of the chairs, motioning the pirate to do the same. Still, that honey-sweet voice seemed to penetrate his soul.

- Please sit… … … or stand. I would like for you to be as comfortable as possible.

The pirate stood stubbornly still. It also felt good to stand up after so long.

- What if I do not desire to change… to participate in the P.R.O.G.R.A.M.?

The Matron gave him her sweetest smile.

- A deficient mind cannot expect to make rational decisions. Activating program, fortunately, does not require the patient's accord. But it will do you no harm. So, please relax… and let's begin.

Harlock turned to face her and gasped when a blinding flash of light entered through his eyes and exploded in a million colors and thunder in the back of his brain…

-TBC-

* * *

_Wow, long chapter. Not as much action as I had planned, but I didn't want to write too much in one shot and then not write anything for a month__…._

_Chapter 4 is on the way, but I only put a few lines down. It won't be on today or tomorrow, because I want to really plan where I'm going with this… Just so you know, found the ending today ;-), now I just need to make my way from here to there…_


	4. Chapter 4

_Hi everyone!_

_Sorry for the wait. Had to put this aside to prepare for an internship interview. I GOT THE JOB! Go me!!!_

_Still… this chapter is actually a fragment of chapter 4, but I felt like I was neglecting my readers so I published it like it is._

_I still can't believe how many people are reading this fic!_

_-o-_

* * *

_-o-_

Away, on the edge of star system X-7-3, a low rumble, undetectable by any known human technology, echoed in the thin atmosphere of an unnamed satellite. Well hidden in the shadowed-face of the dead planetoid, the dreaded pirate ship called the Arcadia stood in the natural gravity field. Had anyone looked at it from the outside, they would have believed it to be dead and simply drifting away like a corpse.

With all main-power shut down, the gargantuan metal beast would be slow to react, but it was very much alive.

Clanking, screwing and melding sounds caused quite a racket on the main deck. But that was not the reason as to why the group of pirates there were so angry. A normally constituted person would have feared for their lives at being the target of the anger of such notorious criminals. But this person remained perfectly calm, working under one of the control panels. In fact, he paid so little attention that one of the pirates deemed proper to clear her throat to try and gain the little man's interest… without success. With a sigh, the young pirate took a step closer to the pair of legs, the only visible part of the man working under the control panel:

- Tochiro… Mister Oyama, we… really don't want to have to repeat ourselves. Could you, please, come out from under there just a minute?

Sliding out from under the command post was a very small man with ridiculously large round glasses. He was slightly deformed and looked like one of his ancestors was somehow acquainted with turtles. Even working under a panel he wore a large and thick brown coat that covered him almost entirely. He offered the angered crowd an exaggerated smile with large white teeth.

- Well, I'm afraid you will have to repeat yourself, my dear miss Kay, as it seems I wasn't paying attention the first time…

The said miss Kay, Kay Yuki, was a tall teenager with blond hair descending halfway down her back. Despite her colourful fuchsia pirate outfit and young features, her acid blue eyes seemed ready to reduce the smaller man into a bloody pulp.

- … Fourth time, actually… When are we going to get the Captain?!?

- Get the Captain?

One of the other pirates, exasperated, jumped and waved his fist.

- Yeah! **Get the Captain!!!**

The others jumped in too.

- Ya know! Rescue him or give him a lift or sumth'in!!!!

- When are we turning this ship around to level down that two-bit colony and take the Cap'n back?!?!?

The little man blinked behind his glasses. He turned to his tool box and started looking for something.

- Ohhh! That? Soon.

One of the pirates gritted his teeth together so hard that he felt one crack. It was a pirate custom to blast or hit whatever was the source of your frustration, but it was counter-indicated to use that method on Toshiro Oyama. Not only were there rumors that the man, despite appearances, was a terrifying fighter, but he was also the Captain's best friend. Acting against the man was therefore considered hazardous to your health…

Miss Kay, however, was somewhat more civilized than your average scoundrel. She patiently kneeled in front of Tochiro, to stare him in the glasses. With a calm and rational voice she continued:

- Please, Tochiro. Everyone on board is worried. You came back alone. We weren't even supposed to come here. And now the Captain is gone. He didn't give us any orders aside from waiting on the ship while the two of you went to X-7-3. What do we do now? Should we prepare for a rescue? Or wait for orders? Do we go to the planet? What are we supposed to do?!? Just how long are we supposed to stay like this!?!?!

- … _one month_…

The words had been spoken so lightly that Kay wasn't sure she heard right. Tochiro just rolled the tool he had picked between his fingers. The lights danced on his glasses, hiding his eyes from view.

- W…what?

With a deep sigh, Tochiro repeated himself:

- Harlock said: wait one month.

Everyone gapped at the little man. One of the pirates mumbled:

- Whu?… that… can't be right…

The others reacted to the whisper. Their brains immediately suspected foul play. But even with her back turned, Kay Yuki smelled the tension in the air. She swiftly turned around:

- THE **CAPTAIN** SAID!!!... One month!

The barked command snuffed out the bloodlust before it came out. The handful of pirates just stared at each other, uncertain what to do. Miss Kay stood up, straight and authoritarian and called them back to order.

- Why are you, scurvy dogs, still standing there?!? Mend to your stations! Spread the order! The captain said we're staying put for a month! So we prep for a month!... **MOVE**!!!

The pirates ran from the bridge like rabid hounds were after them. Just as the door closed behind them, Kay turned to the bay-window. Her icy look melted into a worried one. She walked towards it, a hand unconsciously moving to her heart, and stared at a small shining dot next to the sun.

- One month!

Tochiro watched her from the corner of his eye before plunging back under the panel.

- …Pleasing to see a lady show some guts…

- … One month.

- … But you know what they say about ladies who bite…

- An entire month…

- … Still, I guess that's why Harlock likes you so much. So brave… or brainless… depends on how you look at it. Men like that are dangerous, but you knew that, so I'll go for brave. Can't wait to tell Harlock how you handled the ship while he was gone.

- … _One month_…

- Which will be soon… if everything goes well… A long time if things go wrong, but you know him…

- … _One_… _month_…

- … _ever feel like you're talking to yourself? I know I do_…

_-o- _

* * *

_-o- _

_That's all folks! Hope you enjoyed this little Interlude._

_Chapter 5 is on the way._

_As always, more reviews means more story more quickly…_


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